


The Unsettled Peace

by cocopro



Category: D.N. Angel
Genre: Character Development, M/M, Post-Canon, Post-Canon Fix-It, Slow Burn, Spoilers, Temporarily Unrequited Love
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-01-30
Updated: 2021-01-30
Packaged: 2021-03-16 20:49:03
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,655
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29088600
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cocopro/pseuds/cocopro
Summary: In the aftermath of everything, Daisuke and Satoshi are left to pick up the pieces and move on. Torn between burying the past or fixing what was broken, every choice they make is one step closer to chaos.Kokuyoku refuses to die, but neither Dark nor Krad know how to live.There is peace in this, somewhere. They just have to find it.
Relationships: Hiwatari Satoshi/Niwa Daisuke
Comments: 3
Kudos: 5





	The Unsettled Peace

**Author's Note:**

> Tags will change as the story goes on and more characters are introduced; I'm still figuring out where I want to go with this but will update accordingly!

“Satoshi,” Daisuke spoke into the darkness. It was something of a ritual they’d developed in the past month, and though the Niwa family had prepared a room for Satoshi, sometimes he found himself staying in Daisuke’s room until it was ‘too late’ to creep through the house, back to his own bed.

There was an extra set of pillows and blankets that had taken up permanent residence in Daisuke’s room since Satoshi moved in with them. It was used more often than not; tonight, Satoshi was once more in his makeshift bed on the ground.

The lights had been off for nearly half an hour, but he’d been able to tell that Daisuke hadn’t fallen asleep by the way he occasionally shifted positions, or the way his breathing would change--like he was preparing to say something but kept talking himself out of it at the last second.

Satoshi could have ignored him if he wanted to. He could have said nothing and let Daisuke think he was sleeping.

But, it had taken Daisuke half an hour to even say his name after they’d said goodnight, and Satoshi couldn’t sleep anyway. He answered with an unimpressive, “Mm.”

“Are you awake?” Daisuke asked immediately, rolling over to the edge of the bed so he could look down at Satoshi.

Satoshi lay on his back, staring up at the ceiling. His hands were neatly folded over his stomach. He remained still but let his eyes trail over to Daisuke. “Yes.”

Daisuke looked surprised and rolled back over, flat on his back and mimicking Satoshi’s position.

Briefly, Satoshi wondered if it bothered Daisuke to look at him these days. They’d had their fair share of trouble since they’d first met, and the last month had been no exception.

They were nearing the one-month anniversary of…

 _That_.

He felt a stinging sensation in his arm; it hadn’t yet healed, and there had been a dull ache ever since he and Daisuke had destroyed Kokuyoku. He resisted the urge to rub it as he waited for Daisuke to speak again, but when he didn’t, Satoshi found himself prying, “What is it?”

The silence ticked on, and Satoshi felt like he could _hear_ Daisuke sweating. “...Do you ever hear him?” he asked suddenly, and Satoshi understood why Daisuke had hesitated.

They hadn’t talked, not really, about _that_. About Dark. About Krad.

Satoshi had tried to organize his thoughts, tried to bury them, tried to move on. He did what he had always done and compartmentalized, and tried to seal away the thoughts he didn’t want.

“No,” he answered shortly.

He wasn’t sure if it was the answer Daisuke had wanted to hear or not; there was no response.

“Oh,” he heard, after a moment. Another passed in silence.

Satoshi didn’t want to hear that sometimes Daisuke still heard Dark’s voice, because that meant things that he didn’t want to think about. Destroying Kokuyoku hadn’t gone perfectly, and maybe hadn't even been the best plan. Not that there had been much of one; he and Daisuke had been forced to act quickly, out of desperation. Kokuyoku couldn’t have been sealed, it was too powerful. Even in destruction, there wasn’t any appropriate way to dispose of it.

Satoshi had tried.

Daisuke had placed wards and seals of protection all over the painting a few nights afterwards, because even though Satoshi said there wasn’t any life stirring in the painting, they both knew that they couldn't risk something happening to it.

Afterwards, alone, Satoshi had returned with fire and flame in his heart and hand. He had tried to burn it, tried to break it into ash and nothingness. He needed every trace of it gone from this world. He needed to know _they_ could never come back.

Daisuke wouldn’t have understood. He was too close to Dark. Sometimes, Daisuke had a faraway look in his eyes, and Satoshi knew that he was thinking about him. Daisuke was easy to read; he knew that he was searching his mind for any traces of him. 

He, too, felt the emptiness of an unshared mind.

Dark and Daisuke had a relationship he would never understand, something he had never had. They _liked_ each other, despite their differences and what rivalry spawned between them. 

In the end, Dark had given up everything to keep Daisuke safe.

If there was any hope of bringing Dark back into this world safely, Satoshi knew that Daisuke would have given all he had to return the favor.

So, Satoshi had tried to finish the job, _really_ finish it.

He wanted to protect himself. He wanted to protect Daisuke.

Kokuyoku did catch fire. The flames danced around it, licked up the frame, and _burned_.

The walls darkened from smoke, and Satoshi stood in front of the piece with silent resolve, watching as the fires spread from the corners inward. He watched as the flames devoured each inch, sweeping over the entire canvas. There was no satisfaction. This was a duty.

And he failed.

He’d thought the billowing smoke was a good sign, and that if he stayed to watch, he could see it crumble into nothingness. He could have the satisfaction of knowing there was no soul left, and no form that Kokuyoku could ever take again.

Smoke stained his lungs and the fire warmed his skin.

For three hours, the flames fought to devour the piece that had cursed everything he knew.

And then, the fire faded.

Everything that could burn had burned, and yet, there was the painting, in all its glory, untouched. The frame itself had darkened but when Satoshi approached and brushed a finger across it, only soot came off, and he could see the otherwise unblemished frame below.

Kokuyoku could not be destroyed, not really.

But, he had tried.

He had to blink himself back to the present. 

Satoshi thought Daisuke might have fallen asleep, and it was only in that moment that he realized he’d been holding his breath. He relaxed enough to exhale and closed his eyes, but of course, Daisuke chose then to speak.

“I do. Or at least, sometimes I think I do. It’s strange.”

A weight had settled in Satoshi’s stomach. “It is strange,” he agreed, and hoped that would be the end of it. He was used to these late night conversations, he had even come to appreciate and look forward to them. But not tonight.

His fingers tangled in the blanket and he gripped it tightly.

“Oh,” Daisuke said again, and now Satoshi was certain he heard the disappointment. “I guess it’s a good thing, if it’s just my imagination.”

“It’s the better option.” Blunt, and truthful. Daisuke missed his friend, but Satoshi didn’t want to deal with everything that came with Dark _actually_ whispering into his mind.

If Dark had escaped, more could have, too. _He_ could have.

“You’d tell me if you did too though, right?” Daisuke pressed. Satoshi could imagine him lying in bed, worried expression, chewing on his lips. This was a conversation they could have had at any point in time, but Daisuke had chosen to do it under the cover of darkness.

“I’d have to,” Satoshi answered, like he hadn’t ever lied to Daisuke before.

Still, it seemed to reassure Daisuke.

“I miss him.” Soft, vulnerable. Satoshi knew Daisuke missed him. Daisuke, with his heart as big as it was, who found a way to love everything. Daisuke seemed hesitant but asked, “Do you think he’s happy?”

No, Satoshi wanted to say. He imagined Dark was completely gone, devoid of any chance at life. He wanted that to be the case, not because he wished ill on Dark but because he hoped the same of Krad, and where one went, the other was sure to follow.

“Maybe,” he lied, and he could feel the tension leave the room. This again had been enough to reassure Daisuke.

“I hope so.”

“Me too,” Satoshi answered, but he didn’t care. He couldn’t bring himself to. Even now, it was slow steps out of his shell.

He hadn’t needed to stay with the Niwa, he had been living on his own for long enough already. Kei Hiwatari was missing, and Satoshi found that his life really hadn’t changed all that much without him.

It was easy to pretend like he was just away. It’s not like they’d had a funeral or proper service or anything.

Kei Hiwatari--or whoever he was--was gone, and he’d left the remains of a broken life for Satoshi to clean up. 

And, Satoshi had. He had a different job, now: pick up the pieces, fix his family’s problems, and move forward. He had time, now. A life. A chance, at happiness, though he had yet to really reach for it. He didn’t have a curse meddling, hindering, destroying everything he worked for.

It was just him.

And Daisuke, but. They were on different pages.

Daisuke had lost a friend, but Satoshi had lost everything.

When Dark faded, so too did the memories of him. By luck, good or bad, Satoshi remembered. The Niwa remembered. 

No one else.

There was no task force dedicated to catching a man who never existed. There was no reason for Satoshi to even attend school anymore, except that he didn’t know what else to do. He was too young for anyone to take him seriously, no matter what degree he had. He went to school with Daisuke because he didn’t want to be alone. He had a chance to have friends his age, to pretend to be _normal_.

Step father or father, or whatever he was, Kei was gone. His mother was dead, and any distant relatives were too far removed for him to have had any real bond with. Nobody wanted to befriend the host of the family curse, either, and it wasn’t as if he were going to write to any of them and let them know that he was gone.

The truth was, Satoshi wasn’t even sure that he was.

There was an absence in his mind and it was undeniably _empty_ , but he heard whispers, every now and then. He never heard words.

Sometimes, he thought he could hear breathing. Strained, or erratic. Sometimes, a gasp.

Sometimes, it was just him.

He’d had someone intruding on his mind for so long that he had already convinced himself it was his imagination trying to fill the silence.

If Krad had existed in any capacity, he couldn’t have kept quiet for so long. Krad hated when there was too much silence between them, and he had never hesitated to fill the void with his own voice.

The silence was nice, now, if not just a little jarring. In the day to day, it was easy to get by.

At night, it was a little different.

At night, he dreamed.

Only ever the same things. He dreamed of darkness, of weight, of helplessness. He dreamed of chains and cages and prisons. 

He slept, though, through the night. He could handle discomfort; he’d been living with it for as long as he could remember.

He suspected that he’d dream of that, or nothingness, tonight. Like usual.

Daisuke made it impossible to settle into thoughtless silence so he could even try to sleep.

“Do you want to go down to the basement tomorrow?” he asked, because neither of them had been down there since the Niwa’s stolen collection had all fallen silent, and for the most part they’d both pretended like it didn’t exist. Satoshi didn’t quite care for the artwork of his ancestors, and Daisuke hadn’t had the art to see their lifeless forms.

“Why?” Satoshi asked, forcing back the bite in his voice. Dark had absorbed the energy of those artworks during his final battle, brief as it had been. There had been no movement, no life, since that night. Satoshi had not truly ventured into their collection and could not appreciate all that they had amassed. Once, when he’d first arrived to stay, he had stood in the doorway and felt nothing for the pieces. He had seen stillness and emptiness, and all the magic that once made them special had been choked out of them.

His curse had failed to kill him, but Krad had taken the souls of all of those artworks instead. Maybe they were willing sacrifices, giving their power to Dark in his time of need. Maybe they hadn’t had a choice.

Satoshi would never know; they were all silent, now.

They were still rare and valuable for their beauty, but he couldn’t look at them as anything but broken, now. 

“I was thinking…” He could hear Daisuke falter, like he was doubting himself. Satoshi breathed, patiently, and waited. Daisuke found his confidence a moment later. “I want to see With.”

Dark’s familiar, the little rabbit Daisuke had known all his life.

With, who had faded with Dark, whose life was spent in a battle that lasted all of two minutes.

Daisuke used to toss and turn at night, and had confessed to Satoshi one evening that it was because he was so used to the familiar warmth and weight of his lifelong companion. He was trying to learn to sleep without him, trying to learn to move on.

Everyone had to grow up sometime. Dark was gone, and With. Only artwork to Satoshi, but family to Daisuke. It was a thought Satoshi was still struggling to process.

He didn’t understand it entirely, but he knew his friend was suffering.

Satoshi had made a replacement but didn’t feel like he deserved any credit for it. The Hikari could do anything, make anything, and despite how little Satoshi wanted anything to do with art these days, he had pushed himself for his friend.

Soft stuffing and softer fabric came together in a perfect replica of the creature. Satoshi had hand embroidered the eyes, the face. Every detail was perfect, down to the plush pads on the feet. He had left an empty pocket in the creature’s torso, accessible through a hidden zipper. Satoshi had sewn a pouch full of weighted pellets designed to fit in perfectly. Two minutes in the microwave kept them warm for hours. It was the best he could do.

He and Daisuke gave and took no thanks, not for any of their shared suffering. They understood each other on an unspoken level, and to give either meant accepting that neither of them had really healed.

Daisuke found the stuffed rabbit on his pillow, and Satoshi lingered in the hallway, unseen, while it was examined.

In his excitement, Daisuke mistook the stuffed creature for his own, alive again.

He cried. Maybe in disappointment. Maybe in revisited heartbreak. Maybe, because he was so genuinely touched by the gesture that he couldn’t help it.

Satoshi had felt guilt for the tears, all the same.

Daisuke had worn his emotions on his sleeve for as long as Satoshi had known him, and in that regard they were complete opposites. Satoshi had lingered in the hallway for a few moments before he went to his room to give Daisuke his privacy. Hours had passed, and he’d fallen asleep there. A midnight nightmare left him awake and alert, and he had forced himself downstairs to get a glass of water. On the way back, he couldn’t help but peek into Daisuke’s open room.

For the first time since Satoshi had been here, Daisuke hadn’t been sleeping in some contorted position, and he hadn’t been tossing and turning. He slept peacefully, with the stuffed animal on his stomach.

He had slept that way ever since, and it was a nightly ritual that Daisuke would heat up the bag before crawling into bed, and settle himself in.

Satoshi could imagine him stroking the long ears, even now.

“You want to see just With?” Satoshi asked.

“...Maybe all of them. I miss them all. The house is so quiet without them.”

“I suppose. It’s not as quiet as what I’m used to.”

Daisuke hummed in response, perhaps a bit dejectedly.

“...That’s not all you’re asking,” Satoshi inferred.

“I miss them,” Daisuke answered honestly, in a tone that was unfairly sad. It always made his heart ache when Daisuke sounded _sad_.

“You care so much.”

Daisuke didn’t disagree. “I can’t help it. We’d been through so much. They were a part of my family too.”

“I suppose.”

“They spent so long being sealed, or buried, or broken, or hated. I just feel like I’m letting them down.”

“You’re not. You don’t owe them anything.”

“Maybe.” Daisuke didn’t agree. “But someone doesn’t have to be in my debt for me to want to do something nice for them.”

Satoshi knew that. He knew that Daisuke could find a way to rationalize anything if he put his mind to it. “What do you want to do for them?”

But, Satoshi knew, even before Daisuke said it.

“I want to fix them.”

“They aren’t broken.”

“Maybe not,” Daisuke agreed. “...But they aren’t themselves. Maybe it’s like being sick. Maybe they just need a little extra love.”

Satoshi wanted to say that it wasn’t like being sick, it was like a battery running out of juice. He exhaled. “You want to bring them back to life.”

“...Yeah,” Daisuke confessed. “...I mean. They deserve it. They didn’t ask for any of this.”

Something Satoshi could understand, finally. He hadn’t asked to be born either, and certainly not into the Hikari line. “Bringing them back to life isn’t something that goes away like a cold. You’d have to be a Hikari if you wanted any chance of breathing life into artwork.”

“Maybe,” Daisuke said, and Satoshi heard the invitation in the air. “...But if I don’t have one to help me, I’ll have to find something else.”

“You really think you can do it on your own?”

“No. And I won’t know until I try. But. I was thinking. I’d like to try with you.”

The darkness of the room saved Satoshi from the embarrassment of Daisuke seeing the flush that spread across his cheeks. His ears burned and he _knew_ that’s not what Daisuke meant. But his heart pounded more anyway. It was getting worse now, these _feelings_. The more time he spent with Daisuke, the more he _felt_.

He didn’t want anything to do with the art, but more than that, he didn’t want to let Daisuke down.

Even if this went nowhere. Even if Daisuke’s eyes were on someone else.

A little voice in the back of his mind said that maybe, if he tried hard enough, Daisuke would look at him.

But, Satoshi had learned not to trust any voices in the back of his mind, no matter how honeyed their words were.

He should have said no. He should have told Daisuke to give up. He should have stopped it before anything happened.

“I’d like that,” he said instead, startling himself half as much as he did Daisuke, who rolled over the side of the bed to look at him, as if he could see in the darkness.

“Really?” Daisuke blurted, with such hope in his voice that Satoshi couldn’t imagine saying no.

“Yeah. Everything we’ve done together so far has worked out well, right?” A sticky, smothering, inky feeling coated him, like he was sweating dread and drowning beneath it.

“We’re a great team, Satoshi!” 

It was almost enough to bring a smile to his face, even if he felt a little pang of longing in his heart. “We are.” He knew he wanted to be more. He’d known that for a long time, no matter how hard he’d worked to bury those emotions and tried to hide everything from Krad.

He knew.

He also knew that Daisuke might have loved easily, but his heart had always been taken. Risa, Riku. Daisuke’s heart was far away and unreachable.

But, it was a nice dream, all the same, and Satoshi had spent so long willing himself not to feel anything that when Daisuke broke through his walls he didn’t know what to do. So, he fell in love. 

Hikari weren’t supposed to live long enough to ever find true happiness, but sometimes, when Daisuke laughed, or grabbed his arm, Satoshi knew how lucky he was to have him in his life.

Even if he was asking him to dabble in something that made his stomach churn.

“Do you think we can try tomorrow?”

“We can try.”

“All right. Thank you, Satoshi.”

Satoshi grunted in acknowledgement. If there was more Daisuke had wanted to say, sleep claimed him before he worked up the courage to. The silence lengthened, not uncomfortably, and in a few moments Satoshi heard the slow, steady breaths of Daisuke sleeping.

Sleep did not find Satoshi easily, and he did not find the same solace in it that Daisuke did.

He closed his eyes and when the darkness descended upon him, he felt it crash like waves against his prone body. He felt it fill his mouth and throat and lungs. He could tolerate this, most nights, but something about tonight was _different_.

He felt cold metal digging into his flesh. He felt a searing pain, like crushed bones, that throbbed irregularly. His chest felt like an iron had been dropped on it, and he was contorted uncomfortably as the darkness tugged on all corners of him.

When he opened his mouth to scream, the darkness filled his poured into him, his throat, his lungs.

Satoshi didn’t make a sound in this nightmare, but he heard a wail, regardless.

If Satoshi could recognize the sighs of his curse, he could recognize the screams, and Krad’s voice echoed, loud and unmistakable. 

Satoshi’s blood ran cold, but he was used to this. 

This was just another nightmare. Nothing to be afraid of. It wasn’t real. _He_ wasn’t real.

Through willpower, determination, and absolute fatigue, Satoshi slept through the night.

**Author's Note:**

> I don't know what my update schedule is going to be like on this but I hope to have a new chapter at least once a week. Tentatively looking to take on some story requests; more information is on my profile, but if there's something you want to read, please let me know!


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